


The End of Infinity (With You)

by countmeaway



Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: 5+1 Things, And Dean and Seth are cute and clumsy and precious, Blow Jobs, But whatever, CW: alcohol, M/M, Mirror Sex, Roman's kind of a smartass know-it-all, Shower Sex, cw: blood, except it's 4+1, these tags have spiraled out of control
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-15
Updated: 2017-09-15
Packaged: 2018-12-30 02:17:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12098511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/countmeaway/pseuds/countmeaway
Summary: Dean and Seth try to have sex without causing damage—to themselves, and to their surroundings. Spoiler: It doesn't quite work out. Until it does.





	The End of Infinity (With You)

**Author's Note:**

> @thekingslayerrollins over on tumblr made a lovely post, which said: "Since it is pretty much established that Seth and Dean are complete klutzy dorks I want fic about it. I can see them during The Shield days when they all three shared a room and Dean and Seth are trying to have shower sex. I say trying because they just end up knocking things over and falling in the tub. And just lay there laughing like idiots. Meanwhile Roman is in the room with the pillow over his head cursing them because, “Really guys!? The same thing happened the last three times you tried that!”"
> 
> This is that, because my brain could not resist. It's a little more angsty in parts than originally intended, but I cannot write without throwing some angst in there, apparently. Title from Fall Out Boy's "Last of the Real Ones"

1\. They're sweaty and euphoric, and Seth is pretty sure nothing will top this: Dean’s arms around his waist, titles slung over their shoulders, Roman grinning over at them with a proud, satisfied smile on his face. 

“Damn good night, boys,” Roman says, grin widening. Seth can't–won't–argue that. Tag team champs, and Dean the United States champ? Fucking right, it was a good night.

“Drinks on Dean?” Seth asks, hand on Dean’s forearm to keep him from pulling away at the joking suggestion.

Dean grunts out an affronted, “Fuck you, no,” but he stops trying to pull away from Seth, his arms tightening a little more around Seth’s waist. It makes him sweat even more, Dean’s body so hot against him, but he'd never think of pulling away, not when this is all he's wanted for months: to be wrapped safe and secure in Dean’s arms, warmth of his breath tickling the hairs at the nape of Seth’s neck.

Yeah, maybe he wants more, will always want more, but he's okay with this. He's good with this. He'd never do anything to ruin the easy friendship they have now.

“Imma shower,” Roman says, laying his title over Seth's other shoulder. “Hang on to that, will ya?”

Seth nods, agreeable as anything, riding the high of being a tag team champion, of having his first WWE title victory. “Hurry,” he says, letting his body relax back against Dean, “before this one tries to run away so he won't have to pay for our drinks.”

Dean pinches his side, but it only makes Seth laugh.

The bathroom door closes behind Roman, and the room settles into silence.

Seth would be okay standing here for hours, but Dean’s restless energy starts getting the better of him, and he starts fidgeting, tapping his fingers against Seth’s stomach, swaying them lightly in place, and, reluctantly, Seth lets Dean go, pivoting to face him, smiling softly at the way Dean rolls his neck, cracks his knuckles, fingertips moving back and forth across the front plate of the title wrapped securely around his tiny waist.

He looks–he looks perfect: sweaty and flushed, dimples deep pockets in his cheeks, blue eyes dancing happily and shining with pride.

Seth doesn't give himself time to think twice, leaning in before he's aware he's doing it, eyes falling shut a moment before he's hit with a blinding pain. His eyes shoot open as much as they're able to, tears immediately clouding his vision, and there's a trickle of wet dropping down his face.

Dean looks mortified, terrified, a hand over his mouth as he shakes his head, backing up and up until he falls down onto the bed. “Oh, god, Seth, fuck, I'm sorry,” he apologizes, looking for all the world like he's about to fling himself off a building.

Seth shakes his head quick before tipping it back, metallic taste thick on his tongue. “S’okay,” he says, waving it off. It's his fault. He shouldn't have tried to do that. It was stupid.

He blindly makes his way to the bathroom, grateful that none of them bother with locking the door. The shower curtain rattles to the side, and Roman's asking, “The hell happened?”

Seth shrugs, leaning over the sink, drops of blood staining the white porcelain. “Tried to kiss Dean, and he headbutted me.”

Roman barks out a laugh. “Man, bet he's kickin’ himself in the ass right now.”

Most of the bleeding seems to have stopped, so Seth wets a washcloth and cleans his face, grimacing at the stained material. That'll be going into the trash. He turns his attention back to Roman, says, “Nah. He didn't want to. It's cool.”

Roman laughs again, mocking, disbelieving. “Whatever you say, Seth. Can I finish my shower now?”

The shower curtain is tugged back into place, and Seth makes a face at Roman that he can't see, a grin splitting his face as he flushes the toilet, dashing out of the bathroom before Roman starts cursing.

Dean is still sitting on the bed, staring down at his feet, but he looks up at the sound of Seth closing the bathroom door, an eyebrow raised once the sound of Roman shouting hits him. “What'd you do?” he asks, picking up Roman’s and Seth’s titles from where Seth dropped them on the floor.

“He was being a dick, so I flushed the toilet on him,” Seth says easily, shrugging.

Dean hums thoughtfully, then pats the empty space on the bed beside him. “C’mere,” he says, reaching a hand out to Seth when Seth doesn't move immediately. 

Seth takes it, lets himself be guided by Dean, trying to calm the rapid beating of his heart.

“You okay?” Dean asks, tracing his thumb lightly over the bridge of Seth’s nose. It makes him shiver, his pulse racing.

Seth nods. “Yeah, I'm alright. No big deal, Dean.”

“Wasn't exactly how I imagined our first kiss going,” Dean says, a rueful smile on his face.

Seth is pretty sure his breathing has stopped, or maybe his heart, because Dean? He's thought about it? He's imagined it? Seth thought it was just him, just him feeling these things, that he'd forever be pining over Dean, stuck watching as Dean found some beautiful girl to commit himself to.

“I–uh. What?” Seth is at a loss for words. He doesn't even think he knows the English language, at this point.

Dean laughs softly. That will never fail to make Seth’s heart flutter in his chest, a caged butterfly trying to break free.

“Don't move,” Dean says, one hand on Seth's jaw. His eyes are moving rapidly between Seth's eyes and his mouth, and all Seth can do is nod minutely, swallowing repeatedly and trying to remind himself to breathe. 

That all goes out the window the moment Dean's lips are on his, and it's everything and nothing he's ever dreamed of. Dean's lips are a little chapped, but they're soft, a little damp like Dean had just licked his lips, and it makes Seth whimper, clawing at Dean's side, trying to get closer, trying to get more.

They're interrupted by the sound of Roman coughing, the bathroom door banging shut.

“I see y'all finally found your coordination,” Roman teases, and Seth grabs the closest thing he can–a pillow–and throws it in Roman's direction, hiding the way his face is burning in the crook of Dean’s neck.

2.

Dean’s hands are cradling Seth’s face, almost as if he’s afraid Seth’s going to break.

”M’fine, Dean, I promise,” Seth says, for what has to be the hundredth time. Roman doesn’t know why he’s even putting up any kind of argument. Dean is going to be Dean, is going to coddle and pamper Seth until he’s sure, absolutely sure, that Seth is okay, that there are no lasting marks or damage from Big Show’s knockout punch.

They haven’t known each other all that long, not in anything more than a ‘yeah, I know that dude’ kind of way, but they’ve gotten closer over the last almost year, and Dean has changed so much, has grown so much.

The one thing that Roman has learned, above all else, is that Dean doesn’t do anything halfway. He’s all in, or he’s all out, and though he may act tough, as though nothing can hurt or harm him, he’s a big ol’ softy, especially when it comes to Seth. Those two boys look at each other like they’re responsible for hanging the moon and the stars in the sky.

When Seth’s hurt, Dean shoulders the blame, and it’s equal parts endearing and frustrating. Dean can’t be everywhere, can’t do everything, can’t save Seth from everything no matter how hard he tries, and boy does he try.

Their match tonight with the Rhodes Brothers, for starters. Yeah, it was a no disqualification match, but Dean did everything he could to help. No one foresaw Big Show coming out, knocking them all out with that meaty fist of his, causing them their titles. But Dean blamed himself, said he shouldn’t have charged at him with the chair, should have gotten in the ring to protect Seth instead, instead of getting knocked out, only for Seth and Roman to follow suit.

Roman returns his attention back to Seth and Dean, sitting on their hotel bed, Dean’s hands moving from Seth’s jaw to his neck to his shoulders, and Seth’s looking down at him with a fond, exasperated smile on his face.

Dean loves Seth wholeheartedly, with every fiber of his being, like it’s all he needs to keep him going, keep him breathing, and it’s plain as day, the way he holds Seth, looks after him, even if he isn’t the greatest at looking after himself.

”Is it cool if we steal the shower?” Seth asks, holding Dean’s hands in his own. Seth may not be as obvious and out there about his feelings for Dean, but it’s there, in the quiet moments they’re together, in the way no one but Seth can calm Dean when everything gets to be too much, in the way Seth will sacrifice sleep or a workout to stay with Dean when he needs him.

He’s never seen two people more perfectly made for each other, and he’s so damn lucky he gets to call these two his brothers.

”Yeah, go ahead,” Roman says, nodding at the door. He’s sore and achy, his back stinging and throbbing as much as his jaw and his head. A shower sounds great, but there’s no chance he’s moving anytime soon, not now that he’s comfortable on the bed he gets all to himself.

He turns the tv on once Dean and Seth retreat into the bathroom, volume barely loud enough to cover the sounds of the shower running. There’s some ridiculous infomercial playing, people’s faces over-exaggerated, and it never fails to make Roman chuckle.

There’s the sound of crashing and falling coming from the bathroom, and Roman is up and pulling the door open without a second thought to his back, his head, eyes wide at he stares down at his brothers laying in the bathtub, the shower curtain draped over them.

”What in the hell are y’all doin’ in here?” Roman asks, rubbing a hand over his face. These idiot fools.

Seth’s face flushes. “Dean was trying to wash my hair, and it got a little ticklish.”

Dean snorts, hiding his face in Seth’s shoulder. “Started flailin’ like a fish, Rome, should’ve seen him.”

Roman shakes his head, says, “The room’s rented under my name tonight. Try not to break anymore shit, alright?”

He leaves them in the bathroom, closing the door behind him. He doesn’t believe the hair-washing story for a minute. Dean has done that for Seth countless times, and it’s never ended up like that. If they want to fuck in the shower, more power to them, but goddamn, can they not break shit on the nights the room is booked on Roman’s credit card?

3.

Dean’s pacing backstage, his hands sunk deep in his hair, pulling and twisting, frustrated with himself.

This isn’t how tonight was supposed to go, not even close. He was supposed to be there to the end, him, Seth, and Roman, standing tall and victorious on their one year anniversary of being part of the WWE main roster.

But no, of course not, because Dean’s an idiot, because he just has to get cocky and let his mouth run away from him. What good did that do him? None. He was the first person eliminated, and now he’s stuck watching as his team gets decimated: first Swagger, then Cesaro, then Seth, and Roman’s out there alone, two on one, and Dean knows Roman can do it, has as much faith in his abilities as he does in his own, in Seth’s, but it does little to ease the frustration that keeps mounting, knowing that the three of them should’ve been able to take out The Usos, Mysterio, and the Rhodes brothers without breaking a sweat. Even The Real Americans being on their side did fuck all.

Seth finds him just as Roman pins Goldust, trying to pull Dean’s hands from his hair and hold them in his own, but Dean’s having none of it, stalking away from Seth, trying to keep his eyes on the monitor showing the rest of the match.

”Dean, c’mon,” Seth says, impeding Dean’s back and forth path, once again trying to take Dean’s hands into his own.

Dean lets him this time, lets Seth’s calm breathing ground him. “Sorry,” he says, shaking his head at himself. “I fucked up.”

”No, Dean,” Seth says, with a headshake of his own. “I was eliminated, too. But look, Roman still won it for us.”

Sure enough, Roman’s standing there, their music playing in the background. But that doesn’t change the fact that it should be the three of them out there, holding court in the middle of the ring, their fists out to show their solidarity.

”You actually did something,” Dean points out, shrugging. “You eliminated Jey. I didn’t do shit but run my mouth and get my ass eliminated right away.”

”Still looked hot as fuck doing it,” Seth says, undoubtedly trying to lighten the situation. Dean allows half a smile before shaking his head again.

”S’not the point, Seth,” Dean grumbles, tries to pull his hands away from Seth’s. He needs to move, needs to walk, needs to do something other than stand in place, letting all this frustration take root in his bones.

Seth lets him go, and Dean resumes his pacing, one, two, three, four, five, turn, five, four, three, two, one, turn.

”Then what is the point, Dean?” Seth asks sharply. He sounds like he’s fed up with Dean’s shit tonight, and it makes Dean feel even worse. This really isn’t how tonight was supposed to go at all, and Dean just keeps making it worse.

”It’s our anniversary, Seth,” Dean retorts, stopping for a second to look at Seth, his hands balled into fists. He needs to hit something, needs to get rid of the weight of this frustration that’s dragging him down. “We’ve been here for a year, and we all should’ve been out there at the end. I wanted–it should’ve been special, Seth.”

”That doesn’t mean it still can’t be,” Seth says softly, an arm around Dean’s waist to pull him in until they’re standing nose to nose. “Pretty sure Rome said something about going out with his cousins–which, fucking weird, considering we just kinda kicked their asses, but whatever, so we’ll have the room to ourselves for a couple hours.”

”Can we try that shower thing again?” Dean asks, mood lifting a little. It’s nowhere near how he wanted tonight to go, but Seth’s always been great at thinking on the fly, coming up with different things that’ll be just as good, if not better.

And sex with Seth? It’s always better.

Seth raises an eyebrow, which, yeah, last time didn’t go so smoothly, but practice makes perfect, right? That’s what Dean’s always heard, anyway.

”Sure,” Seth says, no doubt just humoring Dean. “The room’s in my name tonight, anyway, so Roman can’t kill us if we break something.”

”Who’s breakin’ what?” Roman asks, finally appearing backstage, tossing Dean his title. He’s grinning, wide and bright, covered in sweat, his hair already pulled back into a bun. He looks proud, victorious, the way they all should’ve looked–Dean shakes his head, letting that thought go.

”I’m breakin’ your face because you’re always so damn pokey,” Dean says, taking a small step back from Seth. It doesn’t work, Seth’s arm cinching tighter around his waist, keeping him right where he is, Dean’s baby held between them.

Roman snorts out a laugh, which, rude. Dean could totally break his face if he wanted to, which, for the record, he doesn’t.

”Y’all realize anybody could walk by, right?” Roman asks, tone just this side of chiding.

Dean feels Seth shrug. “Not like we haven’t done this before in front of the crowd,” he points out, which, true. It’s not Dean’s fault. He just–it’s Seth. It’s the effect Seth has on him. He needs to be touching him, as often as he can be, cameras and crowds be damned.

”Okay, smartass,” Roman says, smacking Seth in the back of the head. It makes Dean growl out a warning. He doesn’t care if Roman’s just messing around; he should know better than to put his hands on Seth like that.

Dean twines his fingers with Seth’s, allowing Seth to hold onto his title. They follow Roman as he leads them down the halls of the arena, all the way to the basement where they stashed their bags for the night. They’re all still in their ring gear, but that’s no different from any other night, making their way out to the parking lot and into their rental, their bags tossed carelessly into the back.

Seth’s screamo–”It’s metalcore, Dean, how many times do I have to tell you?”–blasts through the speakers before Roman manages to turn it down. Dean still doesn’t understand how Seth can listen to that so loudly, and not walk around with a headache 24/7.

”Y’all gonna be good for the night if I go out for drinks with Jimmy and Jey?” Roman asks, once they’ve pulled out of the parking lot and are on their way to their hotel.

Dean grins from the backseat where Roman can’t see him, anticipating all the fun he and Seth are going to have while Roman’s gone.

”Yeah, dude, go,” Dean says, tamping down the flair of excitement he feels. “Just gonna order in some food and watch a movie or something.”

”Wasn’t born yesterday, Dean,” Roman says, sighing and shaking his head. “Just stay off my bed, alright?”

”Have all the sex in your bed?” Seth cuts in, looking back at Dean with a grin on his face. “Sure thing, Rome.”

Dean doesn’t even try to stifle his laughter.

”Do it and I’ll shave your head,” Roman threatens, fucking jerk. That’s not even funny. He knows how much Seth loves his hair, how much Dean loves Seth’s hair.

”You’re not half as funny as you think you are,” Seth fires back.

”I dunno, man,” Roman says, clicking his tongue. “I think I’m pretty damn funny.”

They pull into the hotel parking lot, taking the last parking space in the front, and Roman’s quick to turn the car off, to grab his bag from the trunk, never mind the fact that he isn’t getting into the hotel room until Seth checks them in.

”He better not be trying to take my night from me,” Seth says, which Dean hadn’t even thought about. It sounds like something Roman would do, in retaliation for the way Seth flushed the toilet on him while he was showering last month. Dean was wondering when Roman was going to get him back for it, and taking Seth’s night to pay for the hotel room just so he can lecture them about not breaking shit like he does every night the room is booked under his name is a very Roman thing to do.

”Go,” Dean says, shooing Seth away. “I’ll get your bag.”

Dean takes his time, stretching until every bone pops and cracks, shouldering his and Seth’s bags. Roman and Seth are waiting at the front desk when he finally makes his way in, and they’re glaring at each other.

”What?” Dean asks, marching straight up to them. He and Seth have plans, dammit, and he is not going to deal with them butting heads all night. He’ll get his own damn room if he has to.

Which is a lie, he knows, the moment it crosses his mind. He can’t sleep without Seth, as pathetic as that may seem.

”Nothing,” Seth says, brandishing their key cards. Ah, so that’s it: Seth still managed to beat Roman to check-in.

Dean sighs. “We hear your lecture every time you get the room, Rome. We know. You ain’t gotta keep drillin’ it into us, and you don’t gotta take Seth’s night just to reiterate your point. We hear you, man, loud and clear.”

”Whatever, man,” Roman grumbles. “Can we go? Jimmy and Jey are already waitin’.”

Roman retreats into the bathroom the moment the door is unlocked, and he’s showered, dressed, and out the door ten minutes later.

”You think something else is going on with him?” Seth asks quietly, looking over at Dean from where he’s sitting on the edge of their bed, undoing the laces on his boots.

Dean pauses, hands on his belt buckle. “Think maybe he’s lonely?” It’s gotta be hard for him to be around them all the time, the way they’re always so wrapped up in each other. Dean doesn’t mean for it to happen, it’s just–Seth’s a magnet, and Dean’s forever pulled in.

Seth shrugs. “I don’t know, maybe.”

Dean hopes that isn’t it, because he doesn’t know if he could change, if he could distance himself from Seth, if Seth could distance himself from Dean. They’d try, for Roman’s sake, Dean knows they would, but they wouldn’t be happy about it, and he knows it wouldn’t work.

They finish undressing in silence, throwing their ring gear in a pile on the floor, pushed off into a corner. They’ll pick it up in the morning, throw it into whomever’s bag has the most space.

”Shower?” Dean asks, already retreating into the bathroom. Seth’s hot on his heels, bumping into Dean’s back when Dean stops suddenly. It makes Dean laugh softly, reaching back to grab Seth’s hands, to wrap Seth’s arms around his waist.

”You’ve gotta start the shower, babe,” Seth says, nuzzling against the nape of Dean’s neck. It sends a ripple of shivers down Dean’s spine, and he can only nod, mouth going dry.

It takes a minute to get the water to the perfect temperature, but once he does, Dean’s helping Seth in, following behind him, pulling the shower curtain shut. Seth’s standing beneath the shower spray, head tilted back, and the sight makes Dean a little breathless, a lot hard.

The water is trickling down Seth’s face, catching in his beard, rivulets streaming down his neck, his chest, catching on the faint line of hair beneath Seth’s belly button, and it makes Dean’s mouth water, has him itching to put his mouth there, to follow each and every ribbon of water with his lips and tongue.

Dean decides to hell with restraint, backing Seth up against the shower wall, pressing his lips to Seth’s. Seth’s lips part against his immediately, and Dean wastes no time curling his tongue in, touching it teasingly to the tip of Seth’s, retreating to lick at the swell of Seth’s bottom lip.

Seth makes a needy sound that goes straight to Dean’s dick, and he kisses him that much harder, licking at Seth’s teeth, the soft flesh on the inside of his cheeks, his hands cradling Seth’s jaw like he’s something special, something precious, because he is, and he forever will be.

He scrapes his teeth over Seth’s beard, down the line of his neck, chasing the rivers of water with his tongue, down the sloping curve of Seth’s collarbone, his chest, nipping his way from one nipple to the other, until Seth’s hand is cradling the back of his head, his chest rising and falling rapidly beneath Dean’s mouth.

Dean looks up at Seth through the fan of his lashes, smirking as he drops down to his knees.

”Jesus,” Seth groans, head thumping against the wall.

”Careful, babe,” Dean teases, mouthing at the line of Seth’s hip, following the curve of bone until he’s nosing at the crease of Seth’s thigh. He puts a hand there, a silent request for Seth to spread his legs a little, and when he does, Dean laves his tongue over Seth’s balls, sucking them into his mouth and humming, knowing exactly what the little vibrations do to Seth.

Seth’s head thunks back against the wall again, and if Dean’s mouth weren’t otherwise occupied, he’d be laughing. As it is, he grips Seth’s dick loosely, smearing the wet tip over his lips before he parts them, curling his tongue over and around the head.

”Oh, holy fuck,” Seth gasps out, a hand tangling in Dean’s hair. Dean closes his eyes and leans into it for a minute, grounded in a way he rarely is, Seth on his tongue, Seth’s hand in his hair, Seth looking down at him like he can’t believe he gets this, like he can’t believe Dean is his, like Dean is everything good and right in the world.

It’s a heady feeling, and it makes Dean’s heart ache in the best of ways, in the way only Seth can. He moves his mouth to Seth’s hip, pressing a kiss there, then takes Seth back into his mouth, humming deep in his throat as he swallows Seth down, fighting past the reflexive need to gag until his nose is flush against Seth’s skin.

Seth pulls at his hair, sharp little pinpricks of pain that make Dean throb, so hard he feels like he could come just from having Seth in his mouth, salty taste of precome exploding on his tongue.

”I can’t, Dean, oh, god,” Seth groans, hips jerking up into Dean’s mouth. Dean draws back until the head is resting against his bottom lip, dipping the tip of his tongue into the slit, and Seth jerks so sharply it knocks Dean back against the side of the tub, shower curtain once again falling with him, and Seth’s legs must have given out because a moment later, Seth is toppling down on top of him, an elbow digging into Dean’s ribs.

”The fuck, Seth?” Dean’s voice sounds rough, his throat used and scratchy. The water is pelting down on them, and Dean can barely see through the blur of the spray in his face.

”I’m sorry,” Seth says, voice muffled. He has his head in his hands, Dean can see. “I didn’t–my legs. Goddammit, you know what your mouth does to me, Dean.”

Dean stifles a laugh. Now is not the time to laugh. He’s soft now, Seth’s soft and mortified, and this just isn’t happening tonight anymore.

”You think Rome’s right?” Dean asks, maneuvering enough so he can pull Seth in against him, his arms loose around Seth’s waist. They don’t have much time to sit like this, the bathtub too small to fit two guys of their size in any comfortable way.

Seth’s head falls forward. “Starting to think so, yeah,” he agrees.

Dean sighs. He pats at Seth’s leg, says, “Up.”

They might as well shower now that it’s clear no shower sex is going to be happening tonight. Goddamn Roman always having to be right.

Later, curled up in the same bed, the tv playing softly in the background, Roman comes stumbling in, teetering his way into the bathroom. Dean holds his breath, feels Seth doing the same, and they let it out as a whoosh when Roman bellows, “Goddammit, how many times are y’all gonna do this shit?”

4.

They get changed at the arena, stowing their ring gear in the trunk of the car. Roman promised them drinks, lots of drinks, for Dean’s birthday, and Dean is going to capitalize on that. He wants to drink it up with his brothers, his teammates, before going back to the hotel with Seth, his brother, his teammate, his everything, to have ridiculous amounts of birthday sex.

”Y’all ready?” Roman asks, eyeing Dean in the backseat. It’s been almost two weeks since Seth and Roman’s standoff, since Roman came back and found the shower destroyed, again. Things have gotten better since then, back to normal once Dean and Seth had told Roman that he was right, that they’re too uncoordinated to have sex in the shower, and that for their health–and Roman’s sanity–they’ll stop trying.

Dean smacks the back of Roman’s headrest giddily. “Drinks are waitin’, man, let’s go.”

”The bar’s not going anywhere, Dean,” Seth says, shaking his head, trying to hide a smile.

”S’my birthday, Seth,” Dean fires back. “Sooner we get to the bar, sooner we get back to the hotel, right?”

Dean watches Seth swallow, the way his eyes glaze over momentarily. “You heard the man,” Seth says to Roman, “the bar’s waiting.”

One drink becomes two, then four, and Dean loses count of how many Roman has shoved in his hand, but he’s laughing, feeling lighter than he has in days, Roman on one side, Seth on the other, swapping stories about different matches they’ve had–Dean and Seth, anyway–while Roman tells ridiculous stories from his college days that make Dean snort, his belly aching from how hard he’s laughing.

It’s the best night Dean could’ve asked for, and it gets better after they take a cab back to the hotel, clumsily tripping over each other as they make their way to their room.

Dean and Seth have a single for the night, but Roman’s room is right on the other side, close enough if they should need anything.

”Y’all be good,” Roman says, playfully wagging a finger in their direction.

Seth snorts out a laugh right in Dean’s ear. “Not likely,” he says, smothering the rest of his laughter in Dean’s shoulder.

Dean shakes his head fondly. Seth’s a happy drunk, laughing at anything and everything, clinging to Dean like a barnacle.

”C’mon, babe,” Dean says, patting Seth’s pockets. “Where’s the key?”

”Back pocket,” Seth replies, grunting when Dean slips his hand into the too tight material of Seth’s jeans, squeezing for good measure before he pulls out the keycard.

Seth’s probably too drunk to do anything, if the way he’s stumbling is any indication, but he’s on Dean the minute the door is closed behind them, mouthing at the sensitive skin of Dean’s neck, fumbling with the button of his jeans.

”Slow down,” Dean says softly, capturing Seth’s hands with his own. Seth looks up at him with a frown, brown eyes blinking slowly in confusion.

”Wha’s wrong?” Seth asks, taking a step back. His eyes are glassy from the drinks he had, and his face is already flushed. He looks wrecked, and Dean wants nothing more than to wreck him further, to peel off every layer Seth’s wearing and get his mouth on him, his dick inside him.

Dean smiles softly at him. He’s had a lot to drink himself, but his body’s used to it. “Nothin’s wrong, babe,” he says, tucking his index fingers into the front belt loops on Seth’s jeans, using them to pull him back in. “Got all night, is all.”

Seth licks his bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth for a second before he says, “Yeah, but I want you now, Dean.”

Dean has never had the pleasure of seeing Seth after that many drinks, but apparently put some alcohol in him and he’s horny as ever, ready to tear Dean’s clothes off.

”You sure?” Dean asks, lips hovering a hairsbreadth from Seth’s. Consent is important, he knows, even if he and Seth have been together for almost six months. Just because Seth’s drunk and pleading doesn’t mean Dean isn’t going to outright ask.

”Always,” Seth says immediately, closing the last bit of space between them. When he licks into Dean’s mouth, he tastes like something fruity, the taste of vodka still there on his tongue.

Dean breaks the kiss long enough to pant out, “Bed,” keeping his hands anchored at Seth’s hips to help guide him into the room. He gets so lost in the kiss, in the taste and feel of Seth’s lips and tongue, the velvet soft flesh inside his mouth, that he doesn’t realize their bags are still in the way until he’s tripping over them, sending Seth sprawling out on the floor, his own knees hitting the carpet as his foot gets caught in one of the handles.

This is what happens when they plan ahead, when they book a hotel room before going to the arena: the bags with their every day clothes are left in the middle of the room, and they were too wrapped up in each other to remember to move them out of the way.

”Goddammit,” Dean swears, reaching down to pull the bag off his foot, throwing it against the wall. He crawls over to Seth, cradling Seth’s head in his hands. “You okay?”

Seth looks up at Dean blearily. He shakes his head, his eyes squeezing shut, and then he’s sitting up and turning to the side, emptying the contents of his stomach on the hotel carpet.

Goddammit.

Dean holds Seth’s hair back, letting him finish his business. No point in rushing him off to the bathroom since he’s already made a mess of the carpet.

There’s a knock at the door, and Dean debates ignoring it for a minute before the knocking starts again, louder and more insistent. Dean stands up with a sigh, crossing the room to open the door, and of course, Roman is standing there, in a pair of flannel pajama pants and nothing else, his hair piled into a bun atop his head.

”The fuck are you two doin’ over here?” Roman asks, sounding half-asleep, pushing his way inside the room.

”I tripped, we fell, Seth’s gettin’ sick,” Dean says, short and to the point. This night is turning into a nightmare.

”I see that,” Roman says, turning right back around and walking out. “Have fun cleanin’ that up.”

Dean stands there, staring at Roman’s retreating back. “You’re not gonna help?”

Roman laughs. “Hell no. I’ve got my own room. See y’all in the morning.”

The door clicks shut behind him, and Dean refocuses his attention on Seth, who’s looking up at Dean from his spot on the floor with tears in his eyes.

”Don’ feel too good, D,” Seth says, sniffling. He sounds pitiful, and it’s breaking Dean’s heart.

”C’mon,” Dean says, holding a hand out to Seth to help him up. “Let’s get you cleaned up, then we’ll go to bed, okay?”

Seth nods, dragging his feet as Dean leads him into the bathroom. He wets a washcloth, wipes down Seth’s face, then fills a cup with water from the tap. “Gargle and spit. Need to rinse your mouth out.”

Seth does as directed, handing the cup back to Dean when he’s done.

”Think you’re gonna be sick again?”

”No,” Seth says softly. “Think I’m okay now.”

Dean blows out a relieved breath. He needs to get Seth into bed, then he’s gotta figure out a way to clean the carpet so the hotel won’t charge Seth too much for the damage.

As far as birthday’s go, it’s still one of the better one’s Dean’s had.

+1

In hindsight, trying to eliminate Roman from the Royal Rumble probably wasn’t the best idea Dean’s ever had, but they’d said–they’d agreed–that it was every man for himself, that once the numbers started dwindling, they’d do what they needed to do to win.

He wanted his moment, of course, and he’s sure Seth and Roman both wanted their own as well. Of course they did. Who didn’t? But Dean made his move too soon, made Roman eliminate both him and Seth, and now Seth’s pissed at him, pacing the alcove they’ve claimed for themselves while waiting for Roman to arrive.

”I said I was sorry,” Dean says again. It’s probably the tenth time he’s said it, but it hasn’t stopped Seth from pacing, hasn’t stopped him from giving Dean the silent treatment.

It’s grating on Dean’s nerves, an uneasy frustration starting to build. He messed up, and he knows it. Seth doesn’t have to make it worse by ignoring him.

Seth stops suddenly, pivoting to face Dean. “We said, Dean, we said, if we made it to the final four. How many guys were still in the ring?”

Dean shrugs. He doesn’t know. He wasn’t counting.

”A whole lot more than four!” Seth exclaims, running his hands through his hair. He deflates a little, blowing out a slow breath. “I’m not mad at you, Dean, okay? I’m not. I’m just–I wanted this win really bad, y’know?”

Dean nods. “I know. So did I. And so did Rome.”

”C’mere,” Seth says, beckoning him over. All the tension leaves Dean’s body once he’s wrapped in Seth’s arms, his head resting on Seth’s shoulder. “Next year, that’s gonna be one of us.”

Damn straight it is. Dean will do whatever it takes to help one of them win it. “Hope it’s you,” he says honestly. As much as he wants it for himself, he wants to see Seth win it, wants to see Seth main event WrestleMania, wants to see Seth walk out with the big gold wrapped around his waist.

”Sap,” Seth says, but he squeezes Dean a little tighter.

”You think Rome’s still pissed at me?” Dean asks, in a voice he hates the sound of: terrified, needy, small.

”Nah,” Seth says, sending shivers down Dean’s back as his hands move up and down. “I’m sure he understands.”

”I do,” Roman says, startling Dean. He tries to pull out of Seth’s embrace, but Roman’s suddenly there plastered against his back, pressing Dean into Seth even further. “I get it,” he continues, “and I ain’t mad at you, uce.”

Dean relaxes that much more, the ball of uneasiness in his belly unraveling.

”I’m beat,” Roman says, pulling away, the heat of his body no longer plastered along Dean’s back. “Y’all ready to head back to the hotel?”

”Yes, sir,” Seth says, a grin on his face. He looks tired, like he’s about to fall over where he stands. The sooner they’re back at the hotel, the better.

Dean takes Seth’s bag, shouldering it along with his own. He keeps a hand at the small of Seth’s back, helping him into the SUV they’ve rented for the week before tossing their bags in the back, joining him a minute later. Roman’s driving again, because he doesn’t trust either of them to not wreck the vehicle, so Dean uses the short drive to hold Seth tightly to him, his eyes getting heavier.

The Rumble was a long match, and as much as Dean loved it, it took a lot out of him, and all he wants to do now is strip off his clothes and crawl into bed with Seth.

”Needa shower,” Seth says sleepily, burrowing further into Dean’s side.

”Sure you don’t wanna wait til morning?” Dean asks quietly. It’s probably for the best that they do, because Seth’s liable to fall asleep in there at this rate.

”Hair will be gross,” Seth replies. Sometimes Dean is grateful for his short, thinning hair. Seems like hell to deal with all the hair Seth and Roman have.

Roman quietly parks, shutting the car off and popping the trunk. “I got the bags. Take him up to the room.”

Dean offers Roman a grateful smile, tugging a sleepy Seth out of the backseat, keeping an arm around him until they approach the doors, then it’s a hand on the small of Seth’s back again, until they’re in the privacy of the elevators. Seth all but collapses against him, tucking his face in against Dean’s neck.

”C’mon, Sleeping Beauty,” Dean says playfully, when the elevator doors chime open.

Seth smacks him in the stomach half-heartedly, but he follows Dean out of the elevator, down the hall to their room.

”Shower and sleep,” Seth says on a groan, thumping his head lightly against the wall.

”Two seconds, babe.” Dean finally finds the keycard in the front pocket of his pants, unlocking the door and urging Seth inside. “Go, shower, I’ll grab you somethin’ clean.”

Seth kicks off his boots, removing the tac vest and tossing it on the floor. His shirt follows, and Dean’s mouth goes dry watching the play of muscles in Seth’s back, the way they move and flex when Seth lifts his arms and drops them back down at his sides.

Dean picks up the trail of Seth’s clothes, storing them in the corner with the rest of their bags before digging Seth’s out, pulling out a clean t-shirt and a pair of boxers.

When Dean gets into the bathroom, the shower is running, but Seth’s bent over the counter, looking for all the world like he’s asleep. Dean closes the door, walks up behind Seth, caging him in with the brackets of his arms.

”You wanna shower, you have to actually get in the tub,” Dean points out, meeting Seth’s eyes in the mirror.

Seth gives him a soft, sleepy smile, and it makes Dean’s heart lurch in his chest. Jesus. He will never not love seeing that look on Seth’s face.

”Was waiting for you,” Seth says, standing up straight, his back flush to Dean’s chest. Seth’s so malleable like this, eyes blinking slowly.

Dean moves Seth’s hair to one side, setting his mouth to the other. He scrapes the skin lightly with the blunt edges of his teeth, splaying a hand over Seth’s belly to keep him upright.

The sound Seth lets out is more sigh than moan, but he relaxes bodily against Dean, one of his hands covering Dean’s own.

They shouldn’t, Dean knows, knows that he should get Seth in and out of the shower so he can sleep, but goddamn, Seth’s brown eyes blinking slowly at him, the sleepy, lust filled look in them, Dean wants to take him apart with his mouth, his hands, his cock, so damn badly he’s aching with it.

Seth rubs back against him, the tiniest roll of his hips that has Seth’s eyes fluttering shut, has Dean stifling a groan against Seth’s shoulder. His hand moves lower, toying with the button on Seth’s pants, but he bypasses it for now, molding his hand around the hardening line of Seth’s dick.

Dean watches raptly as Seth’s eyelids flutter shut, the way his hips arch up into Dean’s hand. His head’s tipped back, baring the long line of his throat, and Dean wishes–god, he fucking wishes–he could set his mouth there, suck bruise after bruise into Seth’s skin, mark him for all the world to see.

Seth’s rolling his hips back and forth, into the grip of Dean’s hand, back against the swell of Dean’s dick. He wants–he needs, god, he feels like he’s burning up, sweat prickling along his hairline, the nape of his neck, mouthing at Seth’s shoulder. It feels like he’s going to die if he doesn’t get some skin on skin contact, so he reluctantly removes his hand from Seth, taking the smallest step back so he can pull his shirt off, kicking away his boots and shoving his pants and boxers down to his ankles.

He meets Seth’s eyes in the mirror again, and the look Seth is giving him can’t be described as anything but hungry. Dean plasters himself against Seth’s back, shivering at the feel of Seth’s skin against his heated flesh.

”Can you?” Seth asks, swiping his tongue along his bottom lip.

”What do you need, babe?” Dean asks. He mouths at the shell of Seth’s ear, tugging the lobe between his teeth. It makes Seth groan and shiver, canting his hips back against Dean’s groin.

”You,” Seth whispers, head falling forward. It’s cheesy as all fuck, but fuck if it doesn’t make Dean’s heart swell. He makes quick work of Seth’s pants and boxers, shoving them down as far as he can, and it’s like everything gets hotter, burns a little brighter, Seth’s ass grinding shamelessly against Dean’s dick.

There’s bottles of lotion on the counter, and Dean would rather they had lube, but he needs this now–they need this now, and he reaches for it, falling to his knees once it’s in his hand.

”Lean forward a little,” Dean rasps out, a hand set to the small of Seth’s back. Seth does as he’s told, spreading his legs a little wider, and Dean can’t help the, “Fuckin’ perfect, babe,” that slips out.

It’s easy work stretching Seth. He opens so easily, so readily, riding Dean’s fingers as they’re curled and spread inside him, and the quiet little gasps and moans he makes go straight to Dean’s dick, hard and leaking between his legs.

”M’ready,” Seth bites out, jerking as though he’s been shocked when Dean’s fingers skate across his prostate.

Dean rises to his feet, smearing the last of the lotion over his dick. His hands are shaking a little, and his throat feels dry, and he doesn’t know why. This isn’t the first time they’ve done this, not even close, and it won’t be the last time, either, but it feels like so much, something so big and all encompassing Dean almost can’t breathe with it.

It’s what Seth does to him, what Seth will always do to him, and Dean never wants that to change.

It’s a slow, easy press in. Seth’s so tight, so hot around him, and it robs the rest of Dean’s breath from his lungs.

”Jesus,” Seth groans, knocking his head back against Dean’s shoulder. It presses Dean in deeper, and all Dean can do is hold tight to Seth’s hips, watching the way Seth’s chest rises and falls with every breath he takes.

”You good?” Dean asks, trying desperately not to come. Seth’s squeezing around him, and Dean doesn’t know if he’s doing it on purpose, or if he’s still trying to adjust, but the sensation is almost too much, pulling Dean toward the edge faster than he wants.

”Move,” Seth says, demands, his hands braced on the edge of the sink. He looks wild, hair disheveled, lips bitten rid. His face is flushed, and it covers most of his chest. There’s sweat pooling in the hollow of his throat, trickling down the slopes of his collarbone, down the planes of his pecs.

He’s beautiful, Dean thinks, and he doesn’t care how soft that makes him seem, how sappy and ridiculous, because it’s the truest thing he’s ever known. Seth is beautiful and amazing, and Dean is so goddamn lucky.

Seth meets every rock of his hips eagerly, pushing back as Dean rocks forward, and the sounds he makes are the hottest thing Dean has ever had the pleasure of hearing. It makes his toes curl, heat pooling low in his belly.

”Touch yourself, Seth,” Dean whispers into Seth’s ear, eyes locked on their reflections in the mirror.

Seth’s hand moves to his cock, and he almost buckles forward once he gets his hand around himself, but Dean’s there holding him upright, one hand splayed out over the center of Seth’s chest, close enough that Dean can feel the rapid thump-thump-thump of Seth’s heart.

”Yeah,” Dean rasps out, licks his dry lips. The tip of his tongue flicks out against the shell of Seth’s ear. “Look at you. So fuckin’ beautiful, babe.”

Seth hiccups out a groan, stroking himself faster, and it makes him clench down around Dean rhythmically, and all Dean can do is hold Seth’s hips a little tighter, thrusting and grinding his dick in as much as he’s able.

He’s barely able to get out a warning before he’s coming, spilling hot and wet inside Seth, his toes curling against the floor. He fucks Seth through it as much as he can, urging Seth on, begging him to come, and when he does, it’s almost too much, the tight clench of his ass around Dean’s sensitive cock wringing out another round of aftershocks, rocking Dean to his core.

Seth’s breathing heavily, but his eyes are locked on Dean’s in the mirror, and he’s smiling, that private satisfied smile that only Dean gets to see, and it makes Dean fall in love that much more.

There’s a wet squelch when Dean pulls out, and he all but collapses forward onto Seth. He drops soft kisses to every inch of skin he can reach, needing a moment to settle the racing of his heart.

”You good?” Seth asks. His hand starts carding through Dean’s hair, and it can’t be too comfortable of an angle for him.

Dean hums softly. “Yeah, I’m good. Ready to shower?”

Seth laughs, and Dean feels it more than hears it. “Hell no. M’ready to go to sleep.”

Dean shakes his head. He helps Seth clean up, shutting off the shower before they redress. 

When they open the bathroom door, Roman’s sitting on the edge of his bed, his eyes moving from the tv to where they’re standing in the doorway. He grins at them, starting a slow clap, says, “Good job on the sex, and congrats on not breakin’ anything.”

Dean flips him off.

Damn smartass.


End file.
